


love comes walkin' in

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [3]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Gen, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “But I don’t know how to cheer,” Waverly continues.“I can help you practice,” Nicole offers. She snaps her mouth closed.Waverly turns to her with wide, hopeful eyes. “You can?”





	love comes walkin' in

**Author's Note:**

> Another installment in the 80's WayHaught Mixtape 'verse.
> 
> This oneshot takes place in the late spring of 1984. Nicole is in the 8th grade, Waverly is in 7th.
> 
> I WAS ALLOWED TO BREAK POSTING RULES FOR THIS, because Wynonna Earp and I share the same birthday and how can you argue with that kind of logic? (Thanks, Smurf.)

**“Love Walks In” Van Halen, 1984**   
_ So when you sense a change, nothing feels the same. All your dreams are strange; love comes walkin' in. _

Nicole frowns and turns down the small 1975 Hitachi TRK 5030E in the front basket of her bike. “Where’s Wynonna?”

Waverly sighs and glares back into the McCready house. “She’s  _ late _ . Curtis is going to give her a ride.”

“Oh.” Nicole straightens a little, turning her Bad Company cassette back up. “You still riding with me?”

“Of course!” Waverly lifts her bike upright on the porch. She wheels it towards the stairs and pauses, frowning down at the small steps. The bike rolls forward a little and Nicole sees Waverly set her jaw, trying to stop the bike’s momentum. Nicole pauses. Usually, Curtis puts the bikes on the lawn before he leaves for work, and Waverly will skip off the porch and pick up her pink-tasseled bike easily, climbing on and chasing after them.

Nicole puts her bike down gently and jumps over it, taking the steps in two giant leaps. She tosses her hair over her shoulder to keep it out of her eyes and grins at Waverly. “I can do it.”

The bike is heavy but she smiles through the effort and carries it carefully down the steps. A pink plastic tassel hits her in the face as she puts the bike onto the sidewalk. She swats at it uselessly, immediately straightening out the Metallica shirt she stole from Nathan’s closet.

Waverly smiles widely at her. “Thanks.”

Nicole loops in lazy circles around Waverly, showing off as they take their time getting to Purgatory Middle School. Without Wynonna, she can go slow; show Waverly how she learned to pop a wheelie. She circles in, close enough to touch the ends of Waverly’s long, flowy hair, and then circles back out, pushing off the curbs on each side of the street. 

Waverly laughs and swats at her, knocking her hand against the basket on the front of Nicole’s bicycle. “Untie the Knot” cuts out for a second before coming back on.

“Chrissy and Stephanie are doing junior cheerleading,” Waverly says.

Nicole makes a face. She likes Chrissy, for the most part. But Stephanie and junior cheerleading are things she can do without. “Are you going to?”

Waverly shrugs. “Maybe? Is that lame?”

Nicole wants to say  _ yes _ . She remembers two years ago, when Nathan was still playing football in the Junior Midget league and he bragged about smiling at the girls on the sideline. She remembers the way the girls fell over themselves to smile back, acting like a bunch of bimbettes and airheads. She told Nathan that; he threw a football at her that left a bruise on her thigh for weeks. 

She wants to say  _ yes _ because she doesn’t want Waverly to be one of  _ those _ girls; the ones teasing their hair out and giggling over boys in shoulder pads. 

Waverly is too…  _ Waverly _ for that.

Nicole shrugs. “I mean, do you want to?”

_ No, no, no _ .

“They’re my friends,” Waverly sighs. She slows to a stop, putting both her feet down to steady her bicycle. Her sneakers are white Reeboks today, the swish a metallic blue and pink that catches the sun and makes Waverly’s feet look like they’re glowing. Nicole brakes and gets lost staring at them. “Nicole?”

Nicole blinks, her head spinning when she looks up too fast. “What?”

“I asked if you thought it was lame?”

Nicole shrugs. “It’s not lame if you want to do it.”

Waverly bit her bottom lip. “Wynonna will make fun of me for it."

“Wynonna can get bent.”

“ _ Nicole _ ,” Waverly scolds, but she smiles.

Nicole smirks. “I’m kidding.” She walks her bicycle forward, nudging it up alongside Waverly’s. “If you really want to do it, Wynonna won’t  _ mean it  _ when she makes fun of you.”

Waverly goes back to worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “What about you? Are you going to make fun of me?”

Nicole exhales softly. “ _ Never _ .”

Waverly brightens, her smile stretching across her face again. “Maybe I’ll go to try-outs. Get the 411.”

Nicole shrugs. “Sure, Waves.”

“But I don’t know how to cheer,” Waverly continues.

“I can help you practice,” Nicole offers. She snaps her mouth closed.

Waverly turns to her with wide, hopeful eyes. “You can?”

_ No, no, no _ .

“Sure,” Nicole breathes out easily. “We can practice this afternoon. Doesn’t Wynonna have piano lessons?”

Waverly giggles. “That’s right.”

Nicole snorts. “I don’t know why she keeps going. Wynonna being the best piano player ever is as likely as-as, I don’t know. A computer that can fit in your pocket!”

Waverly makes a face. “As if. The computer at the library takes up a whole table.”

Nicole flops dramatically over the handlebars. “That’s  _ exactly _ what I mean.”

Waverly reaches out and rests a hand on Nicole’s arm, her fingers burning through her denim jacket. “Thanks.”

Nicole shrugs. “I didn’t do anything,” she says, her arm still heavy with the weight of Waverly’s hand. It tingles.

Waverly lets go and puts her feet back on the pedals, gliding forward a few feet. She turns and looks back over her shoulder at Nicole, her hair in her face. “Race you!” she shouts.

 

-

The cassette tapes in Nicole’s hand fall to the dirt with a clatter, the plastic clacking together. She flinches and scoops up the Hall & Oates tape she stole from her mom’s room, checking it over for scratches. She hadn’t meant to drop them all, but balancing 12 cassettes from the trailhead to their secret hideout a couple hundred feet into the woods was harder than she thought it was going to be. 

Waverly is ahead of her, her PacMan backpack on her back, lugging the 1982 Toshiba RT-200S she snuck out of Wynonna’s room. She looks at Nicole over her shoulder. “Keep up!”

Nicole scoops the rest of the tapes up and makes a small basket out of her shirt, pulling the bottom hem up to hold the cassettes. They clink together gently over the sounds of birds chirping and trees swaying. She picks up her pace, reaching Waverly’s side just as they get to the clearing they’re looking for. The post Wynonna hammered into the ground is still there, the one with a sad, blue string tied to it. Further past it, there’s a lean-to that’s falling over and a smoothed down stump.

Waverly points at the stump and Nicole sits down immediately, the pointed corners of the cassettes cutting into her stomach. Waverly puts the Toshiba on a flat rock and turns expectantly towards Nicole. “What tapes did you bring?”

Nicole is suddenly overly conscious of the tapes she grabbed from her room, and her mom’s room, and Nathan’s room. They had seemed like good ideas at the time, but now she stares down at her small collection and she hesitates.

“Nicole,” Waverly drags out. “We don’t have a lot of time until Wynonna is done with her lesson.”

Nicole slowly lays the tapes on the ground, avoiding Waverly’s eyes.

She brought ABBA’s “Super Trouper,” Electric Light Orchestra’s “A New World Record,” and “Freedom of Choice” by Devo from her mom’s room. Nicole carefully puts down the Hall & Oates’ “Private Eyes” tape next to them. She puts down the ones she took from Nathan - “Crystal Ball” by Styx, Queen’s “The Game,” “Kings of the Frontier Wild” by Adam and the Ants - down next to them. 

The rest are hers, and she puts them down for Waverly to see even slower than the others. She brought Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’ “Damn the Torpedos,” Rush’s “A Farewell to Kings,” “Wild-Eyed Southern Boys” by .38 Special, “Love Stinks” by The J. Geils Band, and “Black and Blue” by The Rolling Stones.

Waverly gasps and scoops the Devo cassette up out of the dirt. “ _ You _ own a Devo tape?”

Nicole gags. “As if. It’s my  _ mom’s _ .”

Waverly tips her head to the side. “That makes more sense.” She hands it to Nicole. “Stephanie really likes Devo. So put this one in and I’ll show you what I was working on.”

Nicole’s hands tremble as she puts the Devo tape in. She presses play and listens to the static for a moment before “Girl U Want” starts. 

Waverly shakes her head. “Can you fast forward to ‘Whip It’ for me?”

Nicole groans softly. _ Of all the Devo songs _ , she thinks. She skips through the rest of “Girl U Want” and “It’s Not Right” to get to “Whip It.”

Waverly drops her backpack and rummages through it, pulling out two faded pom poms. She holds them in her hands, looking at them with wet eyes before she looks up at Nicole. “They were my mom’s,” she says quietly.

Nicole pushes off the stump she’s sitting on, but Waverly puts up a hand to stop her.

“I’m fine.”

“Waves,” Nicole tries.

Waverly shakes her head firmly. “I’m really okay. I barely think about her anymore,” she says, almost like she means it.

Nicole shrugs. “It’s okay if you do.”

Waverly’s eyes narrow. “Do you think about your dad?”

Nicole kicks at the ground reflexively. “No,” she lies.

Waverly stares at her until Nicole feels her cheeks burn under the attention. She hits the pause button on the Toshiba a little too hard, and the boombox nearly falls over. She catches it, just barely, and rights it.

“Are you goin’ to practice or what?” she asks, her voice rough.

Waverly sighs loudly and marches towards her, throwing a pom pom at her. “Don’t be an airhead. Your dad is a…”

“Jerk,” Nicole offers, scoffing.

“A  _ dickweed _ ,” Waverly corrects.

Nicole’s head snaps up. “W-what?”

Waverly nods sharply, crossing her arms over her chest. “I said what I said.”

Nicole can’t stop the small smile on her face. “You said  _ dickweed _ .”

“And I’ll say it again,” Waverly says. “ _ Dick- _ ”

Nicole claps her hand down over Waverly’s mouth, her smile widening. “Okay. I get it. You can say bad words.” She slowly moves her hand off of Waverly’s face, suddenly conscious that they’re dirty. She wipes them hastily on her shirt. “Thank you,” she adds softly.

Waverly smoothes out the wrinkled ends of Nicole’s shirt. “He’s not worth you.”

Nicole rubs at the back of her neck and focuses on anything but Waverly. She spots the second pom pom on the ground and picks it up, shaking off the loose dirt before she hands it back to Waverly. “Show me what you’ve got,” she says, her voice firm. She takes a step back and sits down on the stump.

Waverly stands in front of her, fidgeting a little. She finally meets Nicole’s eyes and nods. Nicole presses play on the boombox and “It’s Not Right” fades out to “Whip It.”

Waverly stands tall, her legs together. The song starts and she steps forward, her right leg going out towards Nicole. She bends her arms and pumps them twice in the air before she steps back, snapping her heels together. She does it again with her left leg, a big smile on her face. She kicks her right leg up and Nicole’s mouth goes a little dry.

“Come on, boys!” Waverly cheers.

She bends at the knees, puts one hand on her hip, and cups the other around her ear. The pom pom in her hand sticks out of the side of her head and Nicole snorts softly. 

“I can’t hear you,” Waverly shouts, staring pointedly at Nicole.

Nicole shakes her head.

Waverly drops her stance and glares at Nicole. “You’re supposed to be  _ helping _ .”

Nicole groans and throws an arm over her eyes dramatically. “But does it have to be to  _ this _ song? This song is the worst!”

Waverly sighs heavily and presses the pause button on the boombox. “Stephanie likes this song.”

“Stephanie likes  _ Corey Feldman _ ,” Nicole points out. “We can’t trust her.”

Waverly kicks a few loose rocks at Nicole. “She’s still going to be the captain of the junior squad, and I  _ have _ to impress her.”

Nicole frowns. “I thought you were  _ thinking  _ about joining.”

Waverly shrugs and shakes the pom poms. “I have to start ‘developing my own interests,’ Gus says.” She toes the dirt, staining the top of her white Reeboks. Nicole winces. “I can’t keep chasing you and Wynonna forever.”

“Yes, you can,” Nicole says quickly. Her stomach flops when Waverly looks up with wide eyes. “I mean,” she tries, slowing herself down. “I like hanging out with you.” She throws her arms out wide. “Why else would I come out here and put on  _ Devo _ and let you throw pom poms at me?”

Nicole doesn’t actually know the answer to that.

Waverly’s eyes narrow like she’s trying to figure it out, too.

“But if you want to be a cheerleader, then I’m going to help you,” Nicole decides. She nods to herself. “First things first. There’s something wrong with your arms. They’re… like spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti?”

“Spaghetti. You need to-to be sharp.” Nicole shakes her head. “Okay, I mean…” She gestures for Waverly’s arm and bends it at the elbow, keeping it pointed sharply. “Like this.” She moves Waverly’s arm down, still bent, until it rests on Waverly’s hip. “Now do it again.”

“Come on, boys!” Waverly cheers.

Nicole grins. “That’s good.”

Waverly smiles shyly.

“Do the whole thing,” Nicole prompts.

Waverly takes a few steps back and starts her routine over: right leg out, right leg in, left leg out, left leg in, right leg up.

Nicole’s stomach flops every time Waverly’s leg goes up, and she swallows down the uneasiness it brings. Instead, she smiles and nods and tells Waverly to go again.

She watches Waverly go through the routine over and over. Her stomach clenches each time Waverly shakes the pom poms at her, or pops a hip out, or throws her leg up into the air just a little higher than the last time. She shifts on the stump she's using as a stool and digs her fingernails into her knee, pressing hard through the denim. 

It has to be her dad. Waverly brought up her dad and now Nicole is uncomfortable. She can't get her dad out of her head; her dad and his new wife and their new baby on the way. She had been confused when he left, angry when he called the first time, and sad when he stopped. Now with a new wife and a new baby, Nicole doesn't know  _ what _ to feel. 

Waverly throws her leg high and Nicole’s stomach twists. 

The back of her neck feels clammy and her hands are sweating. Her heart feels like it's running the 100-yard sprint. She shifts again, her legs tingling. 

She's mad at her dad, she decides. She's never been  _ good _ at being mad - it makes her sick to her stomach. And the rolling and tightness in her belly, it  _ has _ to be anger. 

It still doesn't explain why every time Waverly throws a leg or a pom pom into the air, the feeling gets  _ worse _ . 

 

-

“Girl, quit slamming doors,” Gus yells without even looking up from the cash register. 

Wynonna pauses in the middle of the dining room, looks at Nicole, and rolls her eyes.

“And don’t you roll your eyes at me either, Wynonna Earp,” Gus continues. She finally lifts her head from the cash drawer. “Like I don’t know all your tricks by now.”

Nicole immediately straightens up, nodding at Gus. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Gus narrows her eyes at Nicole before softening, giving her a small smile. “It ain’t you, Nicole. But work harder at making Wynonna an acceptable member of society, would you?”

Nicole snickers and toes the tiles with her Adidas Superstars, the white with black stripes a perfect match for the black and white flooring. “I’m not sure I can, ma’am.”

Gus gives a heavy sigh. “Neither am I.” She rounds the counter, eyeing Wynonna again, but stops to pat Wynonna on the top of the head. “You girls get yourself something to eat and then grab a couple of aprons. That sister of yours promised me she’d be helping out today, but Chrissy Nedley dragged her down to those junior cheerleading tryouts, Bobo called out sick, and Curtis is in Ottawa meeting with a new vender.”

Wynonna groans and throws her head back. “But  _ Gus _ ,” she starts.

“Don’t  _ ‘Gus’ _ me, young lady. You want to keep having money to go down to Mattie’s and buy your cassettes, then you need to  _ earn _ it.” Gus stares at Wynonna a minute longer, until Wynonna nods and sighs. Gus smiles warmly at Nicole. “Now, I gotta go check to make sure we’re good on inventory.” She disappears behind the swinging door that leads into the kitchen. 

Wynonna groans again as soon as Gus it out of sight, and slumps dramatically into a booth seat. She looks up at Nicole. “What do you know about child labor laws?”

Nicole frowns. “Not much.”

“You’re supposed to be the smart one,” Wynonna accuses.

“I am,” Nicole fires back. “You just set the bar real low.”

“ _ Ooo _ ,  _ burn _ ,” Wynonna hisses. She rolls her eyes again. “What do you want to eat?”

Nicole perks up at the idea of food. “A deluxe cheeseburger,” she says, her stomach already grumbling in anticipation. “Lunch was  _ grody _ . Split-pea soup is the worst.”

Wynonna makes a face. “I can’t believe you tried to eat it.”

Nicole feels her face flush. She turns towards the counter and hops onto a stool, spinning lazily around to face Wynonna. “Waverly got me a tray.”

_ “Waverly got me a tray,” _ Wynonna mocks. “I know she has everyone else wrapped around her finger, but you’re  _ my _ best friend. Remember?”

“You won’t really let me forget,” Nicole grumbles. She smiles, though. “Now go get me my burger, woman. The high school is letting out in a few minutes.”

Wynonna disappears into the kitchen, leaving Nicole alone in The Patch. Nicole spins on the bar stool at the counter again, slowly, enjoying the calm before the storm. The neon signs buzz quietly and the jukebox clicks every so often. Nicole pushes off her stool and pulls at her denim jacket. Her Rolling Stones patch, the one that just says ‘Stones’ with the mouth below it, is peeling off her pocket. Her mom couldn’t find a new patch but she found a Rolling Stones Great Video Hits button, and promised to sew it back on when it finally did fall off. Nicole had threaded it into the upper part of the jacket, right over her heart. It mirrors the small Kiss patch on the other side that Wynonna got for her. She pats her Aerosmith patch reflexively, checking the edges. It sealed well to the denim; her mom did a good job. 

Nicole idly presses the buttons on the jukebox, thumbing through the tapes while she waits for Wynonna to come back with their burgers. She’s looking at the cassette titles, but she’s thinking of Waverly. 

Waverly, on her bike. Waverly, standing tall with her pom poms in front of her. Waverly, kicking her leg into the air.

A door slams and Nicole flinches, turning as Wynonna comes stomping out of the kitchen, red baskets in both hands. She nods at the booth she had been sitting in earlier. “Cheeseburger deluxe,” she announces, her voice high and accented.

Nicole rolls her eyes and picks a song off of Asia’s “Astra” tape. “Voice of America” starts as she sits down, pulling the basket of fries away from Wynonna. She grabs a handful and shoves them in her mouth, ignoring Wynonna’s noise of protest.

“This tape sucks,” Wynonna says around a mouthful of burger, cheese, lettuce, and tomato. “Oh!” A piece of tomato lands in front of Nicole. “I got a new tape!” She digs into the pocket of her jacket and slaps a plastic cassette case down on the formica tabletop. It makes a cracking sound and Nicole flinches.

Putting down her burger, Nicole picks up the cassette. She groans and puts it back down. “I hate Van Halen.”

“ _ Dude, _ ” Wynonna groans. “I know you do. It’s the worst thing about you.”

Nicole grins. “I know.” She takes a large bite of her burger.

“Just give it a try,” Wynonna argues, waving a french fry at Nicole. Ketchup threatens to drop off it, but Wynonna pops it into her mouth just as it falls. “Doc said it’s bitchin’.”

“ _ Doc says it’s bitchin’ _ ,” Nicole mocks. “You spend a lot of time with him, you know.”

Wynonna’s cheeks flush. “No, I don’t.”

Nicole bites down on a french fry. “Yes, you do. I know you skipped PE yesterday.”

Wynonna ducks her head. “No, you don’t.”

Nicole wants to argue back, but there’s a look in Wynonna’s eyes when she lifts her head that makes Nicole reach for her burger instead and take another bite. She shrugs and steals a fry from Wynonna’s basket.

“I’m gonna put Van Halen in the jukebox,” Wynonna announces.

Nicole scoffs. “You don’t know how to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Wynonna says. “Curtis taught me.”

“He didn’t teach me,” Nicole mumbles.

“Maybe you’re not ready, young Jedi.”

Nicole rolls her eyes.

“But, seriously,” Wynonna continues. “I think you were at Nathan’s baseball game that day? Curtis’ll show you when he gets back from his trip. He likes you better than he likes me.”

“He only likes me better because I never get caught scheming kids out of tokens at Shorty’s,” Nicole points out. “Waverly is his favorite.”

“She’s everyone’s favorite,” Wynonna says, her lips twitching in a smile that tells Nicole she’s Wynonna’s favorite, too.

_ She's mine _ , Nicole thinks before she can stop herself. 

Wynonna tosses the last small bite of her burger into her mouth and chews it loudly, smacking her lips together. She pushes the last of the fries towards Nicole and scoots out of the booth. “I’m taking out “Knee Deep in the Hoopla” to make room for “5150”, okay?”

Nicole nearly chokes on the lettuce in her mouth. “ _ No _ . That's my favorite Starship tape.”

Wynonna ignores her. 

Nicole scrambles out of the booth, leaving her fries behind. “Wynonna,  _ please _ ? It took forever for me to convince Curtis to let me put that on there.”

Wynonna shrugs. “Pretty sure you're the only one who likes it.” 

“ _ Still _ . Come on. No one wants to hear your grody Van Halen tape anyway.”

Wynonna turns, her mouth open in shock. “ _ Excuse _ you, but Sammy Hagar on lead vocals is what  _ everyone _ wants to hear.” She pulls the jukebox away from the back of the wall, and she's pulling Starship’s cassette out before Nicole can stop her. She tosses it over her shoulder and Nicole barely manages to catch the tape before it hits the floor.

Nicole reverently tucks it into her pocket and promises it a good home. 

“Now we’re jamming,” Wynonna says. She pushes the jukebox back against the wall and grins victoriously when she punches the button and a song starts. She looks back at Nicole. “See?”

Nicole crosses her arms over her chest and glares. “There's not a single song on there that can change my mind. Or make me less mad that you took out  _ Starship.” _

Wynonna scoffs. “Do you not even listen to the radio?” She scans the track listing and pushes the buttons to select another song. “You haven't heard “Love Walks In” yet, have you?”

“It's not going to change my mind,” Nicole repeats. 

The synth starts and Nicole hates the way her stomach jumps. It's a slower pulse and she’s a sucker for it. The guitar kicks in and the pace picks up and Nicole feels her body straining to tap along to the beat. The lyrics start and Nicole can’t deny what Wynonna said; Sammy Hagar is something to hear.

The bell over the door chimes as someone pushes it open. Nicole can hear the rustle of plastic over the chords of the song changing and she turns just as the chorus starts.

“ _ And when you sense a change, nothing feels the same.” _ Sammy Hagar croons. 

Waverly comes through the door, waving a set of pom poms out in front of her. “I made it!” she shouts.

“ _ All your dreams are strange.” _

The afternoon sun is coming through the glass door and it blinds Nicole for half a second before it halos behind Waverly’s head, her hair long and straight and billowing slightly. Nicole feels the air leave her lungs in  _ whoosh.  _

_ “Love comes walkin' in.” _

Waverly smiles brightly at her.

“ _ Wow _ ,” Nicole breathes out.

“I know!” Wynonna shouts. Nicole jumps. “Isn’t this song the tits?”

“Watch your mouth, girl,” Gus says, coming back into the dining room. She looks up from the ledger she’s reviewing and stares at Waverly over her glasses. “So you made it.”

Waverly shakes her pom poms, grinning widely. “ _ Gooooo _ Devils!”

Gus finally smiles back, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Waverly’s head. “Well, good for you, girl. Now put those things away. Afternoon crowd is coming by.”

Waverly pauses in front of Wynonna, her eyes wide and hopeful. Wynonna stares down at her for a moment, eyes moving between the pom poms and the way Waverly has tied the ends of her button down shirt into a knot, showing her belly button.

“If you have to, I guess,” Wynonna finally says, her shoulders slumping.

Waverly grins again and bounces excitedly on the tips of her toes. She throws her arms around Wynonna’s neck and squeezes. 

Nicole shoves her hands into her pockets, squeezing them into fists. There’s a small fire in her chest that burns a little hotter when Waverly squeezes Wynonna a final time, and only passes Nicole by with a shake of her pom poms in her face. 

Nicole freezes for a moment, shocked.  _ She _ did all that work with Waverly.  _ She  _ sat through all that practice.  _ She _ lost all those hours listening to  _ Devo  _ on repeat.  _ She  _ told Waverly she was good enough; that she had a pretty enough smile; that she was peppy enough to get on the squad. 

_ She _ was the reason Waverly even tried out in the first place.

If Waverly had never tried out, she would have never made it. If Waverly hadn’t asked Nicole, she would have never tried out.

_ And I don’t even get a hug _ , she thinks bitterly.

“I lied” Nicole mumbles. “This song sucks.”

Wynonna waves her off. “Don’t have a cow, dude.” She touches her toe to the back of Nicole’s knee.

Nicole’s knee gives and she turns, growling at Wynonna. “You’re going to pay for that,” she promises.

Wynonna spreads her arms wide. “Come and get me.”

Nicole rushes Wynonna, reaching high. Wynonna ducks but Nicole’s fingers manage to find the back of Wynonna’s jacket, and she spins Wynonna into her. She wraps a loose arm around Wynonna’s throat and rubs her knuckles against the top of Wynonna’s head.

Wynonna howls over the end of “Love Walks In” and “5150” starting.

“Can’t you guys ever act your age?” Waverly asks, standing at the counter with her hands on her hips. “ _ Noogies _ ? Really?”

Nicole instantly lets Wynonna go.

Wynonna hits the floor with a small  _ thud _ and glares up at Nicole.

“I mean,  _ really _ . You’re supposed to be in the 8th grade this year,” Waverly continues.

Wynonna snorts as she stands up, using the bottom of Nicole’s jacket for support. Nicole’s body twists uncomfortably but she ignores it, staring at Waverly instead.

Nicole rubs at the back of her neck and shrugs. “It was Wynonna’s fault?”

“ _ Obviously _ ,” Waverly sighs. She throws an apron at Wynonna, then Nicole. “Gus wants you guys to bus.”

“I want to waitress,” Wynonna complains, tying the apron around her waist.

Nicole peels off her denim jacket and reminds herself to hang it in the kitchen. She drops it on the floor for now. Honestly, she would rather bus tables than wait them, so she doesn’t complain. She’s grateful Gus even lets her hang around - her dad has a new family now and being home alone with her mom is too hard. It’s too hard to sit around a dinner table and  _ pretend _ like they aren’t all thinking about her dad, sitting at his new table, with his new wife.

“You’re not good at it,” Waverly points out. “You dumped a cola in Carl Junger’s lap last time he came in.”

Wynonna gets a soft, faraway look in her eyes. “He needed to ‘cool down’ a little. I was trying to be helpful. Isn’t that what waitressing is?”

Waverly narrows her eyes. “No. It’s all in the smile and wave.  _ That’s _ the important part.”

Nicole sighs. Waverly has the  _ best _ smile and wave. Even if she’s not old enough to actually have a job, she’s still everyone’s favorite waitress-in-training. Curtis gives her a portion of the tips, and puts the rest in a college fund he won’t let her touch. 

“Gus said,” Waverly starts.

“ _ Gus said _ ,” Wynonna mocks. “You’re such a buzz kill, Waves.” She throws a hand out at Nicole. “Come on. Let’s get the good buckets before the cooks claim ‘em.” She brushes past Waverly, their shoulders bumping, before she heads into the kitchen.

Nicole pauses, studying Waverly’s face. Her mouth is drawn and her forehead is creased from frowning. Her eyes are dark and just a little glassy. Nicole’s hand moves without permission, reaching up to smooth a finger down between Waverly’s eyes.

Waverly pulls back quickly, her frown growing deeper. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Nicole asks, holding her hand to her chest.

Waverly opens her mouth, but snaps it shut before she says anything. 

“I was just-” Nicole stops and shakes her head. “Wynonna didn’t mean it.”

“You don’t need to defend her,” Waverly snaps. She sighs. “Sorry. But I’m  _ twelve _ now. And she treats me like I’m  _ six _ .”

Nicole shrugs helplessly. “I-”

“Like I said. You don’t need to make excuses for her.” Waverly pulls her hair back with a turquoise scrunchie and pushes the flyaways off her face. She pulls at a loose string on her apron and scuffs the top of her Reeboks on the tile and shyly meets Nicole’s eyes. “Champ Hardy smiled at me today,” she admits.

Nicole’s stomach turns over, and she regrets eating that cheeseburger deluxe. “Oh,” she says flatly.

“He was practicing. He’s going to be the quarterback for the team. That’s rad, right?” Waverly asks. “He’s kind of, uh,  _ fine _ , right?”

“Right,” Nicole echoes.

_ Champ Hardy is a dickweed _ , is Nicole’s first thought.

Waverly shrugs. “Whatever. He only smiled at me. It doesn’t mean anything.” She pauses. “Right?”

_ It means I oughta probably punch him _ , Nicole thinks. She tells herself to calm down. It was just a smile. It’s not like he winked at her, or anything. So Nicole takes a deep breath and shrugs. She gives Waverly a soft smile.

Waverly blushes and waves a hand at her. “Nevermind. Forget it. For real.” She reaches out and Nicole holds her breath. Waverly’s fingers land on the edge of her apron, straightening it. “There. Perfect.” She spins on her heel, the light from the jukebox catching the metallic swoop on her sneaker, and marches back behind the counter, climbing up onto the small stepstool back there so she can reach a shake glass.

Nicole exhales noisily and picks her jacket up off the floor, wrapping it tightly around her wrist until the bulky denim cuts into her hand. She pushes the kitchen door open too hard and it slams against the wash station. Stevie, the dishwasher, jumps. He drops a clean plate into sudsy water. 

“Sorry,” she breathes out.

Wynonna looks up from the plate of pickles she’s eating. “Dude.”

“Sorry,” Nicole repeats.

Wynonna narrows her eyes and studies Nicole’s face. “Are you...” she starts, trailing off.

Nicole feels her face flush in panic. “Am I what?” she asks.

_ Am I jealous Waverly didn’t hug me? _

_ Am I angry Champ Hardy smiled at Waverly? _

_ Am I hurt that Waverly flinched when I tried to touch her? _

Nicole feels her panic rising when she realizes the answer to all of those questions is  _ yes _ .

“Are you really  _ that _ ripped about a  _ Starship _ tape?” Wynonna asks. She waves a pickle at Nicole. “Because Van Halen really  _ is _ better than Starship and you can’t even complain about-”

“Yes!” Nicole shouts. “I  _ hate _ that song.”

Wynonna leans back a little. “Well, deal,” she finally says. She holds out the plate. “Pickle?”

Nicole takes a pickle, pops it into her mouth, and shoves her shaking hand into her back pocket.


End file.
